


Truth Is

by genee



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-12
Updated: 2008-05-12
Packaged: 2017-10-15 21:41:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genee/pseuds/genee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>This is supposed to be about trust, but the truth is, Justin likes to beg and Lance likes to make him, likes to hear his voice pitch high and scratch down low, likes to hear him plead, "Stop, please Lance. Please, please stop." </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Truth Is

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bossymarmalade (maggie)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maggie/gifts).



> i asked for ficlet prompts i would never ever write, and bossymarmalade gave me this one: lance/justin, brutal, no clear villain or hero, bleak and devastating. i'm not sure this qualifies. i'm still not sure i want it to.

This is supposed to be about trust, but the truth is, Justin likes to beg and Lance likes to make him, likes to hear his voice pitch high and scratch down low, likes to hear him plead, "Stop, please Lance. Please, please stop." Justin doesn't mean a goddamn bit of it, breathless and needy, his dick hard and his wrists chafed raw, safeword buried out back somewhere, making time with the last of Lance's resolve.

They aren't doing this any more, Lance swore he wouldn't and Justin swore he wouldn't be back, but he ties Justin up just like always, gags him when the swearing stops, when he's done begging Lance to fuck him raw, to come on face, his cock, his open hole. This is supposed to be about trust, but it's got more to with disappearing for a while than with anything else, Lance's knots tied perfectly, his crop arcing through the air.

He counts the bruises on Justin's body, the ones he showed up with three days ago, standing in Lance's doorway with his head bowed and his eyes bleeding, damaged in ways that have nothing to with this, with Lance's marks, crop-welts evenly spaced, raised red and raw, pinpricks all along the edges. He clamps Justin's nipples, the skin inside his hips, the soft insides of his thighs, slides the dark ball out of Justin's pretty mouth when his breathing changes and his eyes slide shut. Justin's dick is hard and curved against his belly, dark and leaking, rubbing against the last of the clamps every time he moves.

Lance flicks the switch on the plug in Justin's ass, and Justin moans, whispers so softly Lance would miss it if he wasn't so near. "Still a fuckin' failure," Justin says, his tongue swollen in his mouth, thick and careful. He could be talking about either one of them, really, but Lance feels his own face flush now, knows he's not. "Fuckin' faggot failure."

He smacks Justin's dick, hard, and Justin strains against his knots, gasping, spurt of pre-come he can't stop. "Don't," Lance warns, rubbing his cock on Justin's chapped lips, shoving over the dry rasp of Justin's tongue, into the clutch of his throat. This is supposed to be about trust, and maybe it is, but it's also about this, the way Justin just shudders and swallows, Lance's orgasm taking him over for minute, sharp and sudden.

He fits the gag back in Justin's mouth and unclamps his nipples. "I'll be back soon," he says, fingers flicking at the clamps inside Justin's thighs, waves of pleasure, waves of pain. "Don't move," he says, carefully sliding a blindfold over Justin's eyes, cool silk over his fingers, over Justin's sweat-soaked skin. "Don't move," he says again. "And don't you dare come."

 

 

\-- End --


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